


My Star

by Mad_Merry



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3357767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Merry/pseuds/Mad_Merry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is a light-not at the end of the tunnel, for that means he's still in the darkness. No, she's a lantern, hanging over his head, engulfing him in warmth. Silencing those voices of guilt. Enabling him to live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Star

Cool, softening hands brush across his jaw in a slow caress, removing the burlap hood adorned on his head in a short swift motion. Lids cover golden eyes in relief as cool air runs across his skin and catch any sweat that's gathered from his endeavors of the day. A noise of relief, hands take hold of his face in an affectionate embrace. He presses his head to her chest, letting the steady thud of her heart sink into the echo of her breathing, the crackle of the wood as it split against the heat. Noises of serenity. The moaning of the beggars left his mind, the feeling of a blade digging through skin the screams of civilians--

His own hands, larger. Cracked, calloused to all hell rest against hers atop his head, twisted into hair and he feels himself start to soften. Not melt, no. Melting meant he'd be out of his embrace. He was like the sheets on their bed. Molding, taking her in as her weight comes onto him. Settled into his lap with arms falling around his shoulders.

The fire is giving a soft glow against them, making their shadows a stark morph of their bodies together. Seeking the security they both provide.

"You push yourself too hard, Altair." It's a soft murmur against his forehead, voice falling away as lips feather like to the touch ghost down to the bridge of his nose, skirting to both eyelids, and just barely coming to touch his lips of his own. He feels tension leave in slow waves. Shoulders lowering, thighs and legs loosening into slack positions. But his heart, oh his heart pounded against his chest in a low thrill of being near his beloved, pulling away to give just a ghost of a smile.

"I assure you, I'm in no danger." And he's back to her, pressing his nose to the skin of her neck. Fingers card through his hair in lazy strokes, toying with strands with languid movements.

"Perhaps not now, but you're straining yourself. Pushing." Her voice, still soft grows a stern tone as hands clamp onto his shoulders, kneading the tense muscle until they grow slack under her grip.

"You do not have to prove yourself anymore, Altair. There is no reason."

He sighs, eyes closing and letting her hands do as they please. Fixing. Adjusting. Working out knots and stress from everywhere that doesn't feel right to her.

"There is. I will always be doubted after my behavior."

"You've done more than some elders. You do not have to run yourself to the ground." Maria's voice is a bit shorter, fingers digging into flush with a dull ache. He pulls his head away to study her features. Hardened with worry and that of a mother. Still such a beautiful woman. In his eyes, she always would be. Features somehow soft and stark at the same time. Round in some areas, but angular in others. Yes, a beautiful woman. And his wife. He'd never expected himself married. Least, so soon. But Maria had come running into his life. High speed, high impact and knocked him off his feet. The only other love he'd ever given was to the brotherhood, to what Malik would take from him. But Maria, she took him for all. All his flaws, all his mistakes and pasts and cradled them. Turned them into something to be grown into a beautiful plant. 'You are not the boy who made those mistakes, you are a man who will fix them.' He remembered a time when those thoughts plagued his mind. Guilt, hate, a sense of betrayal of how is consequence had brought the brotherhood to turn their backs. 

 

But, he deserved it. Even so, there was that dark hole growing in his mind. Bitterness, remorse and so many other things bordering on dragging him down a new path he wanted new part of. Malik and the others had kept him above water once he attempted to earn his title once again. But just that. They didn't keep him afloat. They tugged him enough for a gasp of air, for a moment of light before he plunged back down into the recesses of his mind. Maria...she silenced it all. She is a light-not at the end of the tunnel, for that means he's still in the darkness. No, she's a lantern, hanging over his head, engulfing him in warmth. Silencing those voices of guilt. Enabling him to live. To have two remarkable boys. To admire the sunrise and sunset. To grasp her hand in moments like this. To savor their hearts beating in unison when they're just on the brink of sleep. Yes, she was so much more than his wife. A rock. A lantern. The hand he held and the woman that carried life, blessing them with boys that had such potential. 

She was where he was meant to be. 

"I love you, Maria." It's surprisingly soft for him, pressing a firm kiss against the corner of her mouth, moving to give her a proper one. She smiles into it, arms wrapping around his neck, foreheads so close it hurts but the embrace is solid. Constant. Like floating in a stagnant spot without any doubt of falling.

"And I love you, Altair." Another kiss, slow and languid. Nothing but the need of contact. There wasn't a rush, not anymore. Marias position as a Templar had long faded into nothing but dust. She was Maria Thorpe, a woman of fire and love and who he'd protect with everything his body could muster. There's a short smack on his back when he lifts her, a playful smile coming onto her features because she knew this wasn't deviant. This was Altair, taking her to where they were their most vulnerable. Back to chest,  breathing falling into a pattern that lulled the other to sleep. domesticity. His fingers trail across his arm as she sleeps, studying the small things about her. Imperfections. Sun spots and scars. _Perfect. Always._

As long as he's with her, he will always sleep soundly.


End file.
